Beyond the Pain

MorningPages March 14, 2010 – March Madness

The warning to Julius Caesar, “Beware the Ides of March”, often comes to my mind, especially as March 15^th nears.

March seems to be a time pregnant with significance. I’m not sure if it is or not. Maybe it’s just that the events that happened in March are so much more memorable. Then, of course, there is the fact that March always used to herald, not only Spring, but the return of my hypomania.

I yearn for those easy days when I had Winter SAD and my down cycle only lasted 3 months. Oh, and when those down cycles only meant lethargy, carbo cravings, anhedonia, suicidal ideation, and crashingly deep depressions. Oh, to have those time back, when March meant the return of Robins chirping their mating calls, elevated moods, a literal Spring in my step, and the flooding, rushing tide of ideas and ambition.

Now, March is simply March. Well, maybe not.

This last week has been so fucking exhausting, confusing, an emotional roller coaster.

Then I remembered: the first half of March is, in fact, pregnant with significant dates.

March 8, 1985: My ‘failed’ attempt to kill myself by hanging.

March 6, 1986: Divorce court.

March 10, 1989: JT moves in with me, and our relationship goes to complete shit.

I’m sure there are other March events of significance, but these are all I remember today. And, certainly more than enough to evoke March Madness.

I look out the window as the sun strikes the windows of the downtown office towers and I am both grateful that I am alive and wishing that I were dead.

I forget who said that being able to hold 2 contrary thoughts in one’s brain was some kind of good thing, but I have long had this ‘wonderful’ ability to feel simultaneous optimistic-aliveness and death-wish pessimism.

It is like different parts of me want totally divergent outcomes. And, depending on which part is stronger: I am hopeful, touched with joy, and welcome the future. If, on the other hand, the dark one takes control: I am sad, defeated, crushed, and dread the next minute, hour, and day.

Such is March Madness: the ever eternal dance of Mood. Sometimes a languid Waltz, other times a fierce Tango. But never still, never silent, never calm.

And, now much worse. For a new companion has intruded on the Dance: Pain.

So, to the ebb and flow of Mood is now added the shifting sensation of Pain.

Sometimes crushing me in her embrace.

Sometimes burning with icy needles.

Sometimes both.

And, only occasionally quiet, still, silent: gone!

Beware the Ides of March!

Copyright 2010 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved

The following is a brief excerpt from my forthcoming memoir, “Beyond the Pain”.

I have had this urge to write but I have been avoiding it for some reason.

So, I am sitting my ass down in the chair and having a go at it.

My little old brain keeps getting distracted, wandering off to other things. And, I am distracted by the pain in my legs. And, by the feeling of sexual need in my genitals.

BUT, what needs to be written?

What wants to be said, to be written down.

I am afraid. I am afraid that I will continue to piss away endless amounts of money: trying to ‘buy’ friendship and love; trying to make a name for myself; looking for answers in books (bought at great expense); and then BLAM I will be sick in bed and AGAIN will not have accomplished a fucking thing.

What am I so fucking afraid of?

Why do I avoid working on my work?

Why do I piss endless time away on useless people like JT, LR, and GS?

Why do I avoid sitting my ass down and writing?

Why do I avoid creating and promoting a bloody workshop or something like that?

It’s not the hard work required to do those things: though it’s tempting to blame it on that.

What the fuck is it?

Why don’t I just write my memoirs, or my novel? Why don’t I just get the fuck on with MY WORK?

I am afraid.

Who is afraid?

Ah! One of the little guys inside.

The abused one. The hurt one. The sad one. The one who risked it all … and, was tortured for that.

I, TWO, am afraid.

I need to be loved. I need to be protected. I need to be nourished. I need to be nurtured. I need warmth. I need caring. I need reassurance. I need help. I need protection.

I need to know that you will not hurt me, wound me, bugger me.

I need love. I need comfort.

Tell me you love me … and mean it, SHOW it!

How?

Rub my arms slowly and softly.

Take deep breaths.

Go slow.

Ask me what I need … BEFORE you go running off, or running off at the mouth.

Remember me … and act like you do.

When you do these thiings, then I can stop being afraid.

I WILL DO these things for you … and, that IS my commitment.

Copyright 2010 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved